


just to make it through another night of shakin' you

by catchingtheblues



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Breathplay, Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, M/M, Rough Sex, blood tw, he's a bottom through and through, i mean honestly could eridan ever do anything but bottom, top!sollux
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-07-04 05:06:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15834330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catchingtheblues/pseuds/catchingtheblues
Summary: Your name is Eridan Ampora, and you hate Sollux Captor. Romantically.





	just to make it through another night of shakin' you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FarolitoDraws](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FarolitoDraws/gifts).



“What the fuck’s wrong with you?” Sollux lisps, and really, the guy’s pathetic, life’s just kicking him in his oversized fangs with that lisp. Not that you pity him, fuck no. You couldn’t be further from pity. Besides, Karkat would have your head if you even _thought_ about pitying the sorry excuse of a troll.

And Sollux isn’t pale for you—he’s probably just looking for something to make fun of you for. But you’re so absolutely miserable that you just need to let it out.

“Fef isn’t replyin’.” It’s been _hours_ , and you know she’s seen it. _Read at 4:13PM_ , it mocks you.

He smirks. “Funny, she just replied to me.” He waves his phone in front of you. You snarl and grab for it, but he slides back, out of your reach. “You’re so fucking lame.”

“You’re one to fuckin’ talk, with your mutant moirail who can’t say a word without screamin’.”

“At least he messages me back.”

You go at him and he dodges, circles you, eyes never leaving yours. Watching, waiting. A predator, and looks like you’re the prey.

“Well my moirail’s worth something.”

“Fuck you,” he says. He should get some better insults, this is getting old. He’s not very creative. He doesn’t do anything but sit at his husktop all goddamn day, you’d think the wastechute could Troll Google something better.

“Useless lisping piece of shit. Or _piethe of thit_ ,” you mock. He slams you against the wall and it _hurts_. Your nook is getting wet, bulge unsheathing, and you’re a little disgusted with yourself, as you are every time you get aroused by this lowblood. It shouldn’t be good. You should have a kismesis in your own caste, and you shouldn’t be letting someone control you. Especially not this pissblood.

“Shut up,” he snaps, and before you can ridicule him for his lisp (again), he covers your mouth with his hand. You struggle for half a second but he uses psionics to pin you down.

You still bite his hand, lashing out before he can stop you. You taste blood and ha, take that.

Sollux undoes your cape in quick, practiced movements, tightens your scarf around your neck just hard enough to make it hard to breathe. You choke and he sneers at you, keeps it tight for a few seconds. Just as you’re starting to get lightheaded, he yanks it off. You gasp, starved for air, and he pins your hands over your head to pull your shirt off, He’s giving you no quarter, and you’re struggling, but he’s keeping you down effortlessly.

He toys with you, lets you go for half a second, give you the illusion of freedom. But when you realize and move to shove him away, do _anything_ , he laughs and slams your wrists down. Psionics are _cheating_. You fight against him, but it’s useless.

Hand to hand, you could kick his spindly little ass, you know it. Sollux knows it. But he’s still here, he’s still overpowering you. And fuck, your bulge is _writhing_. You hate him, you hate him so much.

When you kiss, it’s all bites and the taste of blood, at first barely teasing, then flooding all of your senses. It’s terrible, how much you want it. How you try to lick the flavor out of his mouth. How you feel bruises forming, blooming next to old ones, and you like it.

There’s a moment of give and you shove him so he’ll shove you back, knocking your head on the wall. Your vision gets a little hazy for a second, but it’s so good that you moan. You try to stifle it, but you can’t make it and he laughs at you.

“Fuck you, you bulgemunchin’ waste of space.” Sol bites your neck and the hot sting of pain ricochets through your entire body. You feel blood trickling down your back. When you see him and the violet staining his lips, you lurch forward and lick it off of him, bite him back to get the sour tang of yellow.

“You’re about to get your nook stuffed with this _waste of space_.”

“Stuffed? You fuckin’ wish. One o’ your bulges is nothin’, let alone two.”

“Can’t lie to me.” He unbuttons your pants, and your bulge squirms out of your boxers, pushing up to meet him, your slurry leaving a translucent trail on his fingers. You’re half-naked, pants shoved downa bit, but Sol is still dressed.

He wants you vulnerable, and fuck if he isn’t succeeding.

“You gonna take your clothes off? I know I’m the better-lookin’ of us two, but I thought you’d be participatin’.”

He steps back, pulls his shirt off. The only time you break eye contact is when the cloth covers his face for half a second. He looks fierce, like he wants to tear you to pieces, break you apart, but then put you back together… only to break you again. And you’d let him.

With psionics he _throws_ you into the bed. It’s a brief moment of your stomach dropping as you’re lifted in the air, then you drop into the concupiscent platform. He pushes you down on your stomach, one hand on your neck, a command for you to stay still. You fight, of course you do, you always do, but he punishes you for it with a sharp slap to your ass.

“ _Fuck_ ,” you choke out.

“That’s the plan.”

You would kick him if you could move. He scratches down your back and you feel blood welling up, whine. When he licks it up, forked tongue dancing down the lines, you sob.

“You’re so desperate. I could just leave you like this.”

“No! No, don’t, I swear to god, Captor—”

“If you think you can tell me what to do, ED, you’re very, very wrong.” He sounds so calm, and you’re going to shake apart. “I bet I could get you to come until you cry.”

Please.

“Then fuckin’ do it.”

You’re still on your front, so you can’t see him as he grabs you around the waist and drags you to your knees, and then buries his face in your nook. The noise that comes out of you, wrenched out of your throat, is anything but dignified.

Sollux is stupidly good at eating out. You blame it on the tongue, the one he’s currently fucking into you while a finger eases in alongside it. He’s aggressive, trying to get you to come as fast as possible, so he can tease you about not lasting—and who _could_ , against that?—but keep going at you until you’re an absolute mess. And then, when you’re overstimulated, he finally fucks you. Brutal, hard and fast, get you to come until you’re out of slurry. He can only go once or twice in a row but you?

Your record is six.

It hurts, it hurts _good_. You don’t even try to hide the noises anymore, and then right as you’re getting close, he stops. He just fuckin’ stops. He pulls away and you can’t feel him or turn around to look for him, held in place.

“What are you _doing_ , Sol?”

He bites your thigh, a hard shock of pleasurepain. It’s deeper than it’s ever been, and fuck, that’s a lot of blood, you should be worried but you’re just turned on. It’ll take more than a bite to really hurt you.

“You don’t get to come yet.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“Trying something different, you need to wait.” He shoves two fingers in you, no warning, adds a third. You can’t help but groan.

He’s rough, fast, doesn’t give you a break. You’re gripping the sheets, so tight you might actually rip them. When he adds a fourth finger, you cry out. It’s too much and you try to say so, but you can’t speak, you just sob.

Just when you’re getting close, he stops again. You whimper, and you’re prepared for him to start stretching out your wastechute—that’s how he always fucks you, double bulges and all. but he just slides into your nook, bulge thrashing inside you. What the fuck does he think he’s doing? You wouldn’t put it past him to just get himself off and leave you with blue shame globes, fuckin’ bulgesucker.

When he gets a finger beside his bulge, you _wail_. You’ve _never_ made a noise like this in your entire life, and embarrassment hits you hard. You can hear him snicker quietly but he’s panting, doesn’t say anything.

Sol works in a second finger and you’re shaking, actually do rip the sheets a bit. God dammit, he’s gonna replace these. When you can think straight, when he isn’t fucking you out of your mind.

Three fingers. You practically scream, and then he removes them and you groan.

“Sol, I swear to god—”

His second bulge teases at the rim of your nook, and then just jerks into you. No going slow, of course not. You definitely scream this time, and you come the moment both are fully in you. Your seedflap opens, ready for his slurry, to take it all. Yours ends up on the bed, because neither of you needs to fill buckets for the imperial drones yet, so it all ends up wasted.

The bulges twist and turn in you, tangle together and you’re whining constantly. Sollux is breathing hard behind you, starts thrusting into you and it’s too much, all of this is too much. You come again and he groans as you tighten around him.

He digs his nails into the scratches he made earlier, and you come again. More slurry spills onto the bed, and you can hear him laughing behind you, and then he starts fucking you _harder_.

You choke and come _again_. It’s never been so fast before—you don’t get a break, he just keeps going.

When he comes, it’s a blessing and a curse. You do, again, at the feeling of his bulge emptying in you. You’re moaning, and you expect him to pull out, ready to collapse on the platform and pass out for an hour. Your legs are weak, only held up by his psionics, there’s no way you’re making it to your recuperacoon.

But he stays in you, still for a moment. You’re about to start complaining but he shoves himself back into you, starts fucking you again.

You let out a high-pitched whine. Your entire body is sore, and you’ve already come five times, there’s barely anything left in you—

Sol keeps going and you come again. Six times, you can’t do anything else, there’s no way. Normally it’s three times, at four you’re exhausted and he’s already come so he leaves you alone. But he’s not stopping.

“Sol, fuck, fuck, fuck, oh my god.”

“You never shut up,” he gripes. “Just stop _talking_.” He smacks your ass _hard_.

He pulls you closer and thrusts faster. You come again, vision blurry, letting go of the sheets because you’re so drained—in more than one way. It’s practically dry.

“Please,” you sob. “I can’t—”

“Yes, you can.”

Sol doesn’t stop, and you come again. You black out for a second, and then he’s coming again and you groan. He’s shaking behind you, pulls out slow, finally lets you down. You collapse into your own slurry—dammit—but you’re relieved that he finally stopped.

You need a bucket, the ablution trap, anything. You’re so full.

“Beat our record,” Sol says smugly. “I’ll get a bucket.”

He has to lift you up to get all the slurry out, and then he drops you into your recuperacoon, not even trying to be gentle. “See you later,” he says, and you’re out as he finishes the sentence.

x

Fef comes by later, finally replying to your messages. She has to help you get to the ablution trap, whole body sore.

You can’t wait for next time.

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY DRONE SEASON! i actually got this out late oof. this is my first work for erisol and blackrom!  
> i'm p new to writing porn, did this to force myself to get some more experience, so i hope you enjoyed.  
> also never written blackrom, like i said, so i hope this is alright?


End file.
